The Conquests of Kimberly Greene
by LeFay
Summary: If you've ever wondered what it would be like to spend some very personal time with the members of The Covenant, Kimberly Greene has first hand experience that she's willing to share with everyone. Rated M for sexual content.
1. The Conquests of Kimberly Greene

Hello my fellow Covenant fanatics. I have no idea where this story came from. Please don't judge me too badly. My personal characteristcs are comepletely unrelated to those of Kimberly Greene.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Covenant, or the characters related to that movie.

Warning: This is a very naughty story.

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**The Conquests of _Kimberly Greene_**

**Spencer Academy**

**2004 through 2008**

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Some girls would say I've been lucky. Some would say I've been slutty. There's probably even a few who would call me their hero. 

Personally, I think I'm just determined.

But you should decide for yourself. First, let me tell you a little bit about who I am. Then you can find out why some people think I'm so special.

My name is Kimberly Greene. I am currently a junior at Spencer Academy in Ipswich, Massachusetts. I grew up in Little Neck, a small coastal town on the Cape. My affluent parents got bored with raising a child and sent me to my first boarding school when I was thirteen.

That same year I discovered things about myself that I wasn't expecting. The first was my special endowment from the Hooter Fairy. While I've watched my mother stuff her push-up water bra with multiple tissues each time she goes out I can easily fill a D cup.

Secondly, my chestnut brown, wavy hair does not tangle easily. Each lock can also adopt that 'windswept' look instantly. I've never had a bad hair day and I've never needed a stylist to tell me how to wear it.

Thirdly, no matter how much I eat I never gain wait. Seriously. I've seen girls shove fingers, pencils, Ipecac, and toothbrushes down their throats and smile gleefully as their entire stomach empties before them. But I have never needed bulimia to remain thin. That's not to say I exercise because I don't do that either. I eat whatever I want, whenever I want and still maintain a size 4 waist.

I also learned that my leg hair doesn't grow back for a week after I shave it, but this isn't very important. Also, my skin is crystal clear. I can pig out on chocolate, roll in grease, and wear all the sun block I want. No zits here.

Finally, I learned that all of these physical attributes can combine to attract hordes of one, sought after thing: boys. I have never had problems attracting members of the opposite sex. Most of the time I have trouble getting away from them.

Ricky Kinny was my first kiss in the seventh grade. I hope Ricky has improved his methods since then because his Doritos breath and crooked teeth made for a very uninteresting evening.

But I quickly dispatched with Ricky and moved on to Kyle.

Then Sam.

Then Steve.

Then Tom, and Dave, and Julian (at the same time).

Then came Carlos. Yes, Carlos. Carlos and I shared something very special on orientation night, the day before I started school at Spencer as a freshman. Let's just say that the picnic table under the large oak tree next to the athletic complex is no longer suitable to eat off of.

I've heard that some girls always admire their first time, no matter how bad it was. That fateful evening, and the few weeks following it I was very admirable towards Carlos and Carlos Jr. I even thought I reached a climax during our second run-through.

But I didn't know what climax was until I met Jake.

Then Zach.

Then Peter.

Then Chris, and Ken, and Frank.

Yes, there was a Frank, and I will always think of him as Frank the Frankfurter who almost rocked the grill but farted at the end. Literally.

After several disappointing nights when Frank simply did not live up to his reputation I began to get bored. I remained bored until my roommate – who clearly has never been wetted or bedded – dragged me to a school swim meet.

Apparently the swim team is quite a popular organization at Spencer. I was never very interested in organized sports. But I developed quite an appreciation for them after the little time I spent as a spectator.

It was in that humid, chlorine infested gym that I first discovered the Sons of Ipswich.

Maybe it was the fact that the bulge in Reid's Speedo didn't leave much to the imagination. Or maybe it was Pogue's sheer Adonis form. It could have been Caleb's perfect six – no make that twelve – pack. Or it might have been Tyler's tight, wet, glistening butt.

Either way, something inside me went ZAAAAAM! all the way down to my skivvies. I decided right then and there that I would have them.

All four of them.

And I did.

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So, are you intrigued...? 

Press the little gray button and tell me if so. Update will _come_ shortly.


	2. Reid Between the Lines

I would just like to point out that I recieved more reviews and story/author alerts for this story than I have for any other. I think the response might have something to do with the warning I placed in the summary. Apparently Covenant fanfickers are very..._happy_ people. Regardless, I had this chapter finished the day I posted the begining of the story, then when I kept getting all the reviews I freaked a little and realized I had to make the story a LOT better, hence the slow update.

I absolutely cannot believe I wrote this. This is probably the most graphic thing I have ever written and I'm sorry if my lack of sex-writing shows through.

Enjoy

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**The Conquests of _Kimberly Greene_**

**Part I : Reid Between the Lines**

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Have you ever heard of Earnest Washington Johnson Spencer? Of course not, and neither has 99 of the Spencer student body.

Regardless of that fact every single student who currently studies at Spencer and a significant portion of its alumni are all gathered on the front lawns to thank and honor the man who built this fine establishment.

In truth, Earnest never built anything for a single day of his life. He didn't even build the architect firm that made him a millionaire. His father did that one generation before him. Still, when Earnest died alone and crippled in his Newport mansion he told his manservant to give all of his money to a quaint little school in Ipswich, Massachusetts.

Why? Who the hell knows and who the fuck cares?

"Tell me why I'm here again?" Dani, my roommate asked exasperatedly as we sat on a picnic table in the shade, trying to escape the odd September heat.

I didn't even humor her with an answer. I reached behind my neck to loosen the strap of my halter-top sundress. The air was obnoxiously humid and everything felt tight. Dani was lying on the table fanning herself with the lyrics to the school's Alma Mater. In twenty minutes the students of the junior class were supposed to assemble around the pavilion near the front gates to sing and offer a nice photo opt for the local the paper.

All the Coach purses in the world couldn't force me to get up in front of a hundred drooling strangers and sing that song.

I looked around the lawn and saw students, most just as bored as I was, strewn out on the grass, in trees, and at other tables. No one was paying any attention to the speech the provost was currently giving fifty feet away. Even the few dozen parents who came were staring off into space from their prestigious seats in front of the podium.

"I'm going to get a drink," I mutter in Dani's direction. She acknowledges me by waving her hand dismissively in my direction.

Across the lawn from the picnic tables is where the PTO had set up their refreshments. The food was free, although every greedy hand that passed over their rows and rows of baked apple crisp and fudge brownies was expected to drop some heavy green in the donations basket.

The trick is to not make eye contact with the people behind the table. I walked right past the food section and over to the drinks. Cans of Coke, Pepsi, and Iced Tea were arranged in neat lines set to fit in accordingly with the striped table cloth. Obsessive details like these are what cause me to fear PTO moms and their counterparts. Seriously, who has that much time on their hands?

I skipped the canned drinks and filled a large plastic cup with punch from the punch bowl. It was the bubbly kind of punch with a wad of strawberry sherbet floating in the middle.

I walked around the edge of the trees lining campus to mingle with some other classmates. Most of them, I noticed, were asleep. The ones that weren't – mostly girls – were enjoying today as one of the few where the regulation uniform is not required. Skirts where hiked up to their fullest height and cleavage was in abundance.

I found a deserted tree and leaned against it, sipping my punch. The headmaster was still speaking monotonously in his speech about pride and honor. The poor man's face was pink from the sun and a fine layer of sweat glistened on his balding head.

Such heat could not be good for a man of his age. I'm the black suit he was wearing couldn't be helping. I wondered, not for the first time, what makes this man tick. What makes someone want to be in charge of the academic and social lives of over four hundred teenagers?

"Hey Kim," a voice said from behind me, "What do you say we make the most of this boring afternoon?"

I turned to see Craig, a very narcissistic sophomore standing very close to me.

Craig and I have, on occasion, ventured into the bedroom together. Each time I was very drunk and Craig was very excited. Younger boys tend to loose control when they find themselves performing for older females.

Today Craig was dressed in khaki cargos and a button down shirt. Even though we were not required to be in our school uniforms semiformal attire was expected.

"You're awfully blunt Craig," I took another sip of my punch without looking at him. "I thought I made it very clear that I was very drunk last time and you are very young."

"Yo," Craig said indignantly coming to stand in front of me, "I'm pretty sure you were feeling differently when I had you moaning in the study corral at the library."

"That was you?" I asked with a surprised expression, "You'll have to forgive me. I've taken quite a few boys back to the study corral." I brought the cup to my lips again and raised my eyebrows at him over the rim.

"Seriously, Craig," I patted his shoulder as I moved to walk away, "Get some practice time in, then we'll talk."

He scoffed and called me a few unnecessary names. I couldn't care less about Craig. He wasn't worth the time. As I walked back towards the picnic table where Dani was most likely asleep I noticed my steps were a little less than sure. My vision had also gone slightly blurry. I took another quick sip of the punch. It was spiked.

Yum.

Quickly changing my direction I hurried back over to the table to refill my cup. The PTO moms hadn't noticed yet, although there was one woman who was talking a little too loudly with a red cup in her hand.

I laughed under my breath as I made my way towards the dorms. This entire ceremony was completely pointless. Why couldn't they hold it on a weekday and take us out of school for a few hours instead of completely ruining a perfectly good Saturday?

I had stalked across the main lawn and through the breezeway. This was the quickest path to the dorms. Of course, when I got to the main door it was locked. I guess that was the provost's method of keeping the students at the event. It's kind of sad when you think about it; the only way they can keep kids on the lawn is by locking them out of their rooms.

I walked back out to the main path and looked around the buildings for an open window. Climbing in would be difficult in my dress, especially considering my less than sober state. But it was worth the risk. If I could get back to my dorm room I could at least attempt to get some sleep…or repaint my toe nails.

Being such a hot day most of the windows were open. Of course I was now near the administrative building, and the inhabitants of the first floor offices were graciously privy to air conditioning. This is entirely unfair. Students can't even buy their own window units because they're considered to be fire hazards. But if you're old and fat and have worked at this school for more than twenty years – in a position that does not involve a mop or a broom – then your office is automatically relocated to the air-conditioned wing.

It is for this reason that I didn't expect to find any open windows in my search. But surprisingly, after walking around the main building, I found a window open on the first floor. There was small bush growing beneath that I promptly stuck my eighty-dollar Prada sling-backs into to get some height. From there I was able to hoist myself up over the sill and swing one leg over. If anyone had been looking they would have seen a clear view of my barely-there orange lace thong.

Once inside the office I readjusted my dress, pulling down the hem and fixing my top. I placed the empty punch cup on the desk in front of me and looked around for some form of identification to show me where I was. I found a small plaque that said 'Dean of Students, Robert Ordway' hanging near the door.

It was while I was standing near the door, which had a viewing window to the front lobby, that someone nearly sacred the shit out of me by knocking on the glass from the other side. After jumping back at least three feet and throwing a hand to my heaving chest I focused on the figure looking at me from the other side.

Reid Garwin was starring back at me with a bemused expression, motioning for me to open the door.

I took a few seconds to calm my nerves. This was a very unexpected turn of events. Here I was, all alone and sweating in the Dean's office on this hot September day. Reid Garwin was outside, also presumably alone. There was no one else around; the entire school was supposed to be outside at the assembly…

It's my lucky day.

Putting on my best shocked expression I sauntered over to open the door. He pushed it open the minute the lock was undone, backing me into the room.

"Hey sweetheart," Reid smiled as if we were best friends, "Thanks for letting me in. I dropped some pretty important papers in here earlier."

"Really," I said skeptically. It wasn't exactly a foreign concept to think that Reid frequented the office of the Dean of Students. Despite my doubts he began shuffling through some of the loose papers on the desk. I frowned at his lack of interest.

"And here I thought you were just waiting for me," I said with a slightly coy accent to my words. I leaned back against the door stood with my legs out so that the hem of my dress rose up a few extra inches.

Ried stopped with his hands still on the pile of papers. He looked up at me, as if noticing for the first time that I was of the female variety. I saw his eyes rake over my long tanned legs, curvy hips, and brawless chest.

Of course he couldn't tell I wasn't wearing a bra, not yet anyways.

Seeming to have found enough to entice him – I'm sure he found more than enough – Reid walked over to me and placed on hand on either side of my head, leaning against the door frame.

"It's Kim right?" he asked, squinting at my face.

"Oh my god, I must be special if Reid Garwin knows my name," I imitated the high pitched voice of some of my more plastic classmates. Reid seemed to know what I was getting at and smirked at my impression.

"May I ask what brings a lovely lady like you inside on such a special day of school pride?" I noticed that had positioned himself to be able to look directly down my top without even having to shift.

"It's too hot out," I said, softly so he needed to lean in to hear me, "I was going to go back to my dorm room and get out of this dress. Why are you here?"

He took a few moments to answer and I knew I had set the right image growing in his mind. He looked so dazed that I had to prompt a response by clearing my throat rather loudly.

"Oh that's not important," He said offhandedly, "The Dean and I had a minor disagreement and he decided it was best if I didn't attend today's ceremony."

I laughed, "Meaning that you must have terrorized some poor, unfortunate person earlier today and he just didn't have time to deal with you. What did you do?"

"He heard about a small plan I had for today's events and got a little worried," Reid took a loose lock of my hair and began to twirl it between his fingers.

I let my eyes wander up to his pale, baby blues. With the blonde hair and fair skin Reid was very different from the rest of his friends who mostly had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going on. His staple black beanie – missing from today's ensemble – and black skater gloves only added to his separate image and I wondered vaguely if that was his intention in the first place.

"So Kim," he asked slowly, dropping the lock of hair and moving his thumb down the side of my face. "I have a little offer for you."

Inwardly I chuckled at his tactics. _Could it really be that easy? _This boy had absolutely no qualms about casual sex. Even the horniest pricks I'd met started the event with a few false tender kisses.

"And what would that be?" I asked, letting my breath blow across his lips. Those lips came down on the soft skin near my ear. _Ah, there's the false tender kiss,_ I thought. I let my fingers dance on his stomach.

"Well I really need to find this piece of paper, it has my name misspelled on it," he chuckled to himself, "So if you could help me look for it I'm sure I could make it worth your trouble."

I dug my fingers sharply into his rib cage and pushed him away with my free hand. The atmosphere in this room had suddenly died.

"I don't do clerk work," I spat at him, "Good luck finding that paper." I turned around and open the door. I almost had one foot outside but Reid grabbed me and spun me around again, shutting the door in the process.

"Okay," He nodded his head, "New game." The hand came to my hair again and his other one rested on my hip. "How about I try to guess what kind of underwear you're wearing and if I get it right..." his lips came down to suck on my bottom lip, "We give Ordway's desk a new paint job."

I smiled against his kiss at the crude comment. Maybe Bad Boy _isn't_ posing for Abercrombie's Punk Issue. "Well," I said, letting my tongue run across his top lip, "I've never defiled a desk before."

That was all the signal Reid needed. Instantly he was pressed up against me, one knee between my legs and both hands hugging my hips. His lips seemed to grow bigger as they latched onto mine. I felt his warm tongue knocking for entrance very quickly. I opened my mouth to let him in.

His breath was minty and cool. When he kissed me he paid special attention to my lower lip, gently sucking on it while still exploring the inside of my mouth. I responded with more force, bringing one hand to his hair and letting the other grip the muscles of his upper arm. His skin was warm, mostly likely from the heat.

One of his hands left my side and began to trace shapes on my bear back. His lips left mine and he tilted his head down so he could kiss my jaw, then my neck, then my collar bone. I tensed as he moved down to the soft skin of my breasts which were peeking out from halter-top.

The hand on my back crawled closer and closer to the tie of my dress. I let one of my hands drop to his thigh where it slowly began to rub closer and closer to his groin. His lips wreaked havoc on my chest as he used his teeth – his teeth! – to pull back part of the cotton material covering them. I stretched my head up involuntarily to thrust my chest out more, giving him more room to expand.

Suddenly I felt his hand forcibly pull the knot lose at the back of my dress. I reached up and caught the ties before they could unravel. "Hold on Speedy," I said, my voice barely audible because of my heavy breathing, "You haven't guessed yet."

At first Reid was clearly irritated that I had prevented his from total boob access. Then he looked up and smirked. His face should be on the poster for that 'cat got the canary' expression. His hand left my back and he tapped the fingers on his chin, thinking.

"Well you're clearly far from innocent so I'm definitely gonna say thong," I nodded, but there was no way he could guess the color.

"Now for the color…" still tapping his fingers Reid glanced sharply at me and smiled, "Orange?"

My face went deadpan. "How the fuck did you know that?"

Reid sniggered and leaned in close to my ear, "You're not too graceful at climbing in a window." On the last word his hands shot up under my dress and grabbed my thighs, hoisting my legs around him. He attacked my neck again and I let my top fall down exposing my breasts and very erect nipples.

He backed us up to the desk, carrying me with him as I dragged my fingers through his hair. He set me against the edge of the desk and knocked the figurines and pencil holders off the edge. I pushed his head up so that I could kiss him full on the lips again, pressing hard and forcing my tongue into his mouth.

He found the zipper at the back of my dress and pulled it all the way down. I used both my hands to hastily unbutton his shirt. Without breaking our kiss he reached behind me and pushed the papers and planners off the desk. Then he cupped both of my breasts and pushed me down into a flat position with my legs hanging off the side.

He tugged the dress down off my hips and let it fall to floor. Then he climbed on top of the desk and straddled me, giving my nipples a hard pinch as he did so. I sucked in a gasp. Two could play that game. As he settled over me and started to suck on the soft skin between my breasts – Reid was clearly a chest man – I undid his belt and pulled down his zipper.

Once inside his boxers I let my fingers tiptoe up and down his shaft before playing a slight squeezing game with his balls. His head jerked at the contact and actually nipped my skin. Recovering quickly he pushed my thighs apart with his hands and let his fingers slip inside for the fastest second. I moaned and rolled my head back against the desk.

I could feel his erection growing and pushed his pants and boxers down so the flag could fly freely. My fingers traveled up to his abdomen where I eagerly explored his extensive set of muscles. Reid might have a slim build but he has a very toned body.

He slipped inside of me again and I clawed my fingers on the polished wood beneath me. I pulled him closer by the shoulders and raked my lips over his collar bone, planting little kisses along the way. I was breathing so heavily now that I felt light headed. The heat and humidity were causing my pores to sweat and my skin was glistening, as was Reid.

He pushed my legs further apart and settled above me. Then finally – _finally_ – I felt him push inside of me. I was amazed to feel him full and large, far bigger than anyone I'd had before. His member was already throbbing and he quickly got to work, rocking back and forth on top of me.

I moved up to his neck and began urgently accosting his skin as my own hips pushed harder against him, wanting it all. His hands returned to my breasts and he bent his head down to lick my nipples before returning his neck to my lips again. I made guttural noises in my throat as his speed increased. His hands left my chest and he used them to support himself.

The tension was building and I felt my heart begin to race. My body started bucking involuntarily and I clawed my fingers into the wood. All I could think of was how _long_ we had been at it. He shifted his weight to one hand and arched my back with the other as he felt my climax rack my body.

The sensations were incredible. I felt my muscles tightening around him and my whole body felt nothing but pleasure. I was unaware of the hard surface beneath me, or the thick heavy air in the room, or the sounds I was making.

Just as I started to come down I felt him shudder and release inside me. My temperature was already far too high but his ejaculation must have increased it. When he was done he slid out of me and rested his forehead between my breasts, gulping up air. I couldn't move. All I could do was lie there and try to steady my spinning head.

After a few moments Reid seemed to have regained his composure. "Well, that was fun Kim," and he backed off of me and off the desk. I still felt completely paralyzed where I was. Never before had an orgasm taken me on such a ride. As he was hitching up his pants Reid paused and stuck his index finger back inside me then smeared that wetness across the top of the Dean's desk.

"I think that fucker could use a little action of his own," he scoffed, then grabbed my hand and pulled me off the desk.

The lift into a vertical position seemed to pull me from my daze. I slid back into my dress as Reid buttoned his shirt. He saw me attempting to tie the halter top.

"Let me help you there," and the smirk was back as he pulled the ties super tight, stretching the fabric across my already sensitive nipples. "Sorry," he laughed at my intake of breath and tied the knot very loosely.

I flattened my hair with my fingers and adjusted the necklace and bracelets I had been wearing. When we were both fully reassembled Reid opened the door and let me out first. We walked into the main lobby and paused before we parted ways.

"We should do that again sometime," he said, "Maybe in the Provost's office."

I sniggered and leaned right up against him, "Why were you waiting outside the office?"

He quirked an eyebrow and bent down to nibble my neck. With one finger twirling a free lock of hair he whispered into my ear, "You should try some of the punch."

I grinned knowingly and reached down to his crotch. "I already did, nicely done." Then giving him a final naughty tug I turned and walked towards the dorms as sounds of the Alma Mater drifted in from the grounds.

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**Score:**

**1 for 1**

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Please review,

-LeFay


	3. Pogo Stick

I know, I know. There's been a disgustingly long wait for this chapter. My apologies. I don't have a job this summer so I've basically been lounging around doing absolutely nothing. You'd think that would inspire me to write faster but I don't. I promise the next chapter will come up quicker.

Anyways,

I would like to thank the reviewer who commented on the title of the last chapter. I'm quite proud of my puns. See if you can figure out the title for this one. I would also like to point out that Reid did use protection in the last chapter, he just prepares himself so fast that its unnoticable. ;)

Bonne appetite,

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**The Conquests of _Kimberly Greene_**

**Part II: Pogo Stick**

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"I fucking hate this movie," Reid could be heard saying from the roof of Tyler's hummer. I looked to my left and saw him and Tyler along with Pogue and Caleb lounging in lawn chairs on top of the SVU. The ascended positions further emphasized their ranking among Spencer students. 

Even at the Ipswich Drive-In Movies, Reid and his friends were still above everyone else. Literally.

I was perched on the hood of my car, a '79 Chevy Convertible, two cars down from the Sons. Since I actually enjoyed this movie, I spent my time looking at the screen. Still, it was impossible not to hear the loud, negative remarks coming from the boys.

"Why did we come then?" that was Pogue. Tonight's movie was _The Craft_, followed by _Men in Black I_. The people who owned the Drive-In never played current box office movies. It was all 90s films and Indie flicks. I've seen The Craft before and I like the eerie plotline, however, I can understand why a bunch of self-involved boys wouldn't find much interest in movie that celebrates female power.

"It's not too bad if you look at it as a comedy," Caleb put in. I wrinkled my brow as Nancy raised the knife above a struggling Sarah. Sometimes I wondered how Caleb fit in with the rest of them. Most of the time his morale standings were clearly higher than the rest of them.

"Just watch their tits," Reid suggested. I suspected Caleb's intelligence level was higher as well.

In the back of mind I registered that Kate wasn't with them tonight. Perhaps this was a boy's night out? I chuckled. Having those four within close proximity and without any female barriers was going to make my quest very easy indeed.

Beside me I felt Devin shift so that his hand was within finger reach of the hem to my skirt. I paid him no attention as he slowly stroked his thumb over the skin of my thigh. Devin was Charlie's roommate. Charlie was Danielle's current squeeze and somehow I let her talk me into double dating with the two of them tonight.

Devin wasn't bad, in looks or in bed. But there was nothing strikingly special about him that made me interested in going for it twice. I was merely tolerating his presence. Dani was in the backseat with Charlie. A quick glance told me that the windows were getting foggy.

I sighed at my lack of luck to land a more interesting guy for the evening. But as I saw the Tyler pass around a bottle of badly disguised Vodka to his friends I felt my spirits lift. I could definitely have some fun tonight.

I waited until the movie ended. There was an intermission between the first and second movies. The final scene came on where they showed Nancy in a mental institution as they jabbed a needle in her stomach. I winced. I hate needles. As the ending credits rolled I saw Caleb climb down from the hood of Tyler's car.

"I'm gonna go grab some food," he said.

"I think I'll come with you," Pogue easily jumped from the roof of the car and landed on his feet. I licked my lips at his agile body.

"Do you want anything?" Devin asked. I could smell the cigarette he'd inhaled on the drive over here.

"Yes," I said clearly, still not even bothering to turn and look at him, "But I'll get it myself, thanks."

I slid from the hood and felt my skirt ride up as I did so. I didn't pull it back down as I walked towards the concession stand. I saw Caleb and Pogue up ahead of me in line. If I played my cards right I could definitely get lucky tonight. The line got longer and longer as I approached. I wasn't really hungry so I just stood off to the side waiting.

As the beginning of the next movie was starting up I saw Caleb walk away from the counter with a hotdog and Coke in hand. He went over to the condiments table, which was very close to the entrance of the boy's bathroom. I dragged a few fingers through my hair and pulled the V neck of my tank top down a little lower then walked over to him.

"Hey Caleb," he looked up at me as he was putting ketchup on his hotdog. I smiled and leaned against the table, much closer to him than necessary. I saw his eyes flash over me and he frowned, lost.

"I'm sorry," he genuinely looked it, "I've seen you around before but I can't remember you name."

"It's Kim," I said brightly. He looked apologetic, how cute. "I heard you talking about the movie. You honestly think The Craft is a comedy?"

He smiled sheepishly and went back to his hotdog. "Well," he finished and grabbed his Coke, "Let's just say I think that's a very inaccurate portrayal of witchcraft."

"Really," I quirked an eyebrow, "You dislike the casting of four strong, female leads?"

"Not at all," he said quickly, "I fully support confident women."

I picked up his hotdog, "I can be confident," and I bit into the wiener and dragged my lips around it as I bit, all the while looking directly at him.

He raised his eyebrows, "Apparently," I was surprised at the lack of interest in face. I don't think my actions were confusingly subtle. He took the hotdog back and headed in the direction of the napkin dispensers.

At that table he set both the drink and hotdog down and turned back to me. "Are you here with somebody?"

I came up right in front of him, "No," I lied. At the moment I couldn't remember my date's name anyway. "Just my roommate." I saw his eyes glance down to my chest and I leaned forward just a hair to give him a better view.

Just then some bitch, Kellsey I think her name was, came over to the napkin table with a friend giggling. She smiled at Caleb and flipped her hair while blatantly raking her eyes over his body. He smiled politely and turned back to the napkin dispenser. Courtney and her friend, still giggling, walked away.

He made a motion to step around me and head back to the car, but I continued the conversation, "You know Caleb, confidence isn't the only remarkable quality women can posses," I leaned up against him, "I can do a lot more with my mouth than giggle." I reached down with one hand, still keeping eye contact with him and stroked a few fingers over his crotch.

He gently pushed off of him. "I'm flattered, truly," he smiled politely again, "But I don't think here is a proper place, excuse me." Then he grabbed his food off the table and walked away.

What the fuck? Did Caleb Danvers just refuse me out of… propriety? Jesus Christ what kind of prude was this guy? There's no way a guy who looks that hot fully clothed or nearly naked can be that much of a prude. Maybe there was something in my teeth.

I stalked off to the bathroom and checked myself in the mirror. My makeup was flawless, as usual, and the black eyelet D&G headband was perfectly positioned in my hair. My teeth were white and food free and the lacy bra I had on was peeking out suggestively from under my clingy light blue tank top tank.

Perhaps Caleb was going to be more difficult than I thought.

I was still frowning over this new predicament when I walked out of the bathroom and into a large crowd of people. There was a group of young teenagers standing in a circle playing with a soccer ball. Their preteen dates – pink, blowy, baby doll shirts and bottle-blonde hair – stood off to the side, giggling and pointing at their crushes.

I sighed in frustration at the lack of age restriction in the Drive–In. Even though these movies were rated R, kids of all ages could get in as long as the person driving the car has a legitimate license. What really irritated me is that these kids were completely blocking the bathroom exit and the condiments table.

I tried to navigate myself between the edge of the circle and the wall of the concession building. At this same time Pogue Parry turned from the condiments and his eyes lit up at the sight of the soccer ball. He precariously balanced his basket of fries in one hand and kicked the soccer ball as it came his way. The soccer ball flew up in the air, arcing over the heads of all the astonished tweens.

This show off stunt would have been fine if Pogue, despite his obviously athletic build, hadn't lost his balanced. His flailing arms knocked me over. They also sent his fries up into the air. What happened next was a kind of sandwich effect; the fries landed on me, then Pogue landed on the fries.

What is it with boys and ketchup?

"Fuck," He said from above me, "Sorry, I lost my balanced. Pogue peeled him self off of me and a squelchy noise emanated from between our bodies. I looked down to what looked like a gory, bloody mess that was really the result of having someone nearly smear half a bottle of ketchup across your stomach.

I groaned as I knew my shirt was now completely ruined. Above me Pogue brushed himself off and offered a hand to help me up. The soccer boys were laughing as their dates giggled some more.

Once vertical I feebly attempted to wipe some of the excess ketchup off of my shirt. My once clingy tank top was now damp and stuck to my skin. I was a complete mess. I looked up and glared at Pogue.

"Uh," he ran a hand through his hair. I noticed that the white shirt beneath his leather jacket was also covered in ketchup. "I really am sorry," he looked around. I continued to glare at him. The kids surrounding us hadn't stopped laughing. "Shut the hell up!" he snapped at them. The kids instantly quieted and slowly began to walk away.

"Hey, I think there's an extra T-shirt in the back of Ty's truck," he offered, "At least then you wouldn't be walking around like that."

I brushed some hair out of my face and nodded, "That would be nice." My tone was less than friendly but I was very happy at the thought of getting out of this sticky ketchup.

We walked back towards Tyler's hummer as the lights on the concession stand went out and the second movie started. I had to follow close behind him because I could barely see right in front of me. We approached the car from the back and he opened the trunk.

He shook off his jacket and rummaged through the mess of clothing, magazines and beer cans in the hummer's massive trunk space. From the pile he pulled out a black and gray Quicksilver shirt and handed it to me.

I quirked an eyebrow at the flimsy material that reeked of sweat and even had a few holes in it. "Fine," he shrugged, but I saw a grin peek out from his lips, "Does this better fit your taste?"

This shirt was a light brown with green Hawaiian flowers on the shirtsleeves and the O'Neil symbol on the front. I smiled and accepted the shirt as he handed it to me. It looked clean. He pulled a plain black shirt out of the mess and gestured towards me.

"You can change in here if you want," he pointed to the trunk, "I'll hold the hood down."

"Thanks," I sat on the bumper and swung my legs up. I was wearing a skirt after all. Pogue pulled the trunk down but didn't lock it. I was perfectly concealed from view behind the severely tinted windows. Keeping the shirt in my hands, I edge back and my hand landed on something crunchy.

I looked down to see that I had squashed the remains of a McDonald's Big Mac container. The entire trunk of the car – large enough for small children to sleep in – was littered with random articles of clothing, single shoes, and several fast-food bags.

I grimaced and sat down to take my shirt off. As I was pulling it over my head I glanced out the back window and saw that Pogue had already done the same. I was given a perfect, head-on view of that Adonis body.

In all honesty, I have never seen a boy better ripped than Pogue. His upper arms were thicker than my thighs but extraordinarily muscled. The skin around his neck and collar bone was both taught and fleshy. His pecks presented two perfectly proportioned flat globes of male goodness. Finally his abs, the crowning glory, looked like a mountain range sculpted with the same care as DaVinci's David.

This guy could give Brad Pitt a run for his money. He left Orlando Bloom in the dust. He was even hotter than my favorite TV hottie, Tim Riggins of Friday Night Lights. Swim team uniforms beat football gear any day. If Pogue ever met up with Tim in some alternate fictional reality, he would totally kick his ass for the next cover of GQ.

Sadly, Pogue pulled the t-shirt he'd picked out over his head and leaned against the trunk, waiting for me to finish. I felt a familiar heat rising throughout my body and quickly chucked my ketchup-stained shirt at the back window. It stuck to the glass surface then slid down, leaving a trail of red gooeyness behind.

Pogue started at the 'thump' noise and turned to open the door, thinking I was ready to come out. But what I was ready to do was grab him forcibly around the neck and pull him towards me for a demanding and luscious kiss.

He froze at first, instantly surprised. But I got my tongue in there quickly and I felt him accept. I arched up against him putting nothing but my lacy purple bra between him and _my _crowning glory.

I had to pull a little to get him into the car with me, as there was still some reservation in his movements. But once he'd pulled the trunk door down and shut, and I'd pulled that stupid t-shirt up over his head we were both completely on board.

He pushed me to lie down on floor of the trunk. I noticed vaguely that Tyler's car wasn't upholstered in that scratchy material that most trunks are lined with. This trunk was lined in leather. Damn these guys were rich.

I had to bend my knees up in order for me to fit between the back of the seats and the end of the car. Pogue was having more trouble arranging himself as he was much bigger than me. I continued to kiss him as my hands roamed all over his body, pressing hard through the ridges of his stomach muscles.

He managed to fit by straddling me and kind of hunching over my upper half. From there he undid my bra and began to tantalize my breasts with soft, dancing fingers. I moaned from the simple pleasure he was giving my nipples.

I released my lips from his and slowly brought them down his neck, my hands gripping his upper arms. I could feel his strong veins pulsing beneath his skin. Finally I dragged my fingers over his chest. The skin there was perfectly smooth and I wondered if the swim coach made students shave their chest hair to cut time off their runs. I moved my knee against his lower calf and felt a thick layer of hair.

Thank god.

But after that discovery I lost all rational thought as one of his hands continued to make my nipples more erect than they'd ever been while the other drifted down, down, down, to my inner thigh. I helped his venture by pulling my skirt up around my waist.

I gasped as he slipped a single finger inside me, then took it out and stroked the out edges of my opening. I had to bite my lip to keep the loud moan from escaping my throat. I grabbed his sides, right below his rib cage that was heaving heavily from this exertion and subconsciously dug my fingers into his skin.

He left the most sensitive area – which was now quite wet – and moved up to stroke my hair. I regularly trim myself but leave a small landing strip. Slowly, his fingers stroked the coarse hair. He let his fingertips gently scrape the edges where hair met bare skin. I was completely tensed at this pointed, my back arching and my head rolled back against the squeaky leather.

Holy fuck this guy could do things with his hands!

I have never come this close to a climax before simply by being fingered! And he didn't even have his fingers in me!

"Oh!" I gasped as he brought his thumb into the game by letting it roll over my now throbbing clit. Then he went back up to the skin around it before rolling over it once more. He did this two more times and I was nearly writhing beneath him. Suddenly I felt him slide nearly three fingers inside me and push them outward in different directions.

I felt my hips rise at the sensations flooding my body and my toes started to curl in. But just as I was about to hit the peak he pulled his hand away and went back up to my breasts, massaging a slick liquid into my skin.

I nearly died from the desire, but this longing zapped my hands into work and I rushed like a mad woman to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. Pogue seemed to sense my urgency and I swear I heard him chuckle – bastard – as he shook his pants down far enough to give his friend complete access to the night's events. He reached over me and pulled a box of condoms out of the mess on the floor. I waited with bated breath as he got ready.

By now I was positively itching for an orgasm and I pulled his hips firmly towards mine, clamping my mouth onto his again. He kept his thumb pressed into my breasts and moving in a harassing circular pattern while he held himself above me with his fingertips. Damn this guy even had muscles in his _fingers_!

Once stable above he entered me slowly, too slowly. I nearly growled in frustration and pulled him completely into me. And then he pulled back out, nearly leaving me completely before entering again. It's like he was bouncing in and out of me.

Was he a sadist or something! I could feel my whole body covered in sweat. I ran my hands down his sides, across what I could reach of his thighs and dragged them up towards his member. He was still playing that awful game of teasing me so I used my fingers to get a little personal with the defenseless sacks of reproduction hanging loosely from his crotch.

His pace quickened and he remained inside me longer and longer. Now that the games were done and we were both shooting for the goal I let my hands run up and down his cuts and played with the muscles on his stomach once again. A girl could get lost in there.

Everything my hands did was completely of their own accord because my mind was gone. I was riding a wave of pleasure so incapacitating that I thought I would never return to earth.

I climaxed first, being nearly there already from the job his hands had done to me. He took a few moments longer but came quickly with a throaty chant of "Oh yeah baby."

I kid you not.

When were done we both lay there, trying to catch our breath. His magical hands had gone limp and he was suspended over me, as though about to do a push-up while I tried to send enough oxygen to my brain.

Our recovery time was short lived. Several feet above us, through the roof of the car, we could here a cell phone loudly singing the song 'Bitter Sweet Symphony'.

"Where did Pogue go?" That was Caleb's voice and we could hear his footsteps across the roof as he walked over to Pogue's chair, presumably to check the cell phone. "It's Kate. Should I answer it?"

"No, man," that sounded like Tyler but I couldn't be sure. "She's been bitchy lately. She knows its guy's night, let her fume in solitary for a few more hours."

I quirked an eyebrow at Pogue above me, "Trouble in paradise?"

He let out a frustrated sigh and moved back, struggling to pull his pants up in the cramped space. I reached around me for the t-shirt he'd given me to wear and pulled it over my head after re-clasping my bra. Then I bent up to pull my underwear back to its proper position. .

Pogue pulled a random shirt off the floor and slipped it on, and then he awkwardly reached behind him and opened the trunk, backing out of it in to the dark Drive-In lot. I followed quietly, pulling my skirt down when my feet were steady on the ground.

Silently, Pogue shut the trunk. I caught his shoulders as he turned and gave him a quick, deserving kiss. "Thanks," I said, and poked him in the stomach. Then he took one of his big, uber-talented hands and pulled me towards him by the hem of my shirt.

"Not a word of this to anyone," he whispered in my ear. Then I felt his hand dart beneath the shirt for the smallest fraction of a second and pinch the skin right above my ultra low-rise skirt.

We went our separate ways after that. He climbed up to the top of the hummer and I went back over to my car, finding Devon sitting, there glaring at me.

"Where have you been?" he asked, loudly with obvious annoyance in his tone.

I chuckled at the question. I don't think they have a name for the euphoria I just experienced. "Getting the fuck of my life," I told him.

He was visibly hurt and shocked at the same time. I sat back down on the hood, a large distance away from him. About ten minutes later, I felt his fingers dancing on the skin of my thighs again. His fingertips felt dry and stiff.

Sorry Devon, but your digits are like pin pricks after what I just experienced. In a flash I grabbed his hand and twisted his fingers. We both heard a snap.

Oops, maybe I broke one.

* * *

**Score:**

**2 for 2**

* * *

He he he, I couldn't resist that Tim Riggins comment. I personally think the character of Pogue Parry is MUCH hotter than Tim Riggins, even if they are played by the same guy. 

I did my job, now do yours. Review!

-LeFay


	4. Ty Me Up

I know, I know, I know. You all have absolute right to shoot me. I'm sure most of you thought I'd given up on this story. Well, if you're still interested, and you haven't taken me off you alerts/favs, I thank you very much. I can promise cross fingers another update sometime by Christmas...or maybe New Years. It's not that I'm lazy. I'm a very busy person: college apps, AP 1, AP2, AP3, AP4, band, etc...

In the mean time: HAPPY THANKSGIVING. How 'bout them Patriots:)

I apologize for the spelling and grammar mistakes. I wanted to posted this as soon as I was done.

* * *

**The Conquests of _Kimberly Greene_**

**Part III: Tye Me Up**

* * *

Saturday night at Nicky's.

The same table, same crowd, and same sticky floor boards. Vaguely I wonder how many times I've sat at this table over the course of my Spencer days. When the sole of my Jimmy Cho boot requires more force than usual to lift it from a gooey substance on the floor I answer my own question: _too many_ times.

It's not that I'm complaining. I like Nicky's as much as the next prep school kid with Daddy's credit card and mommy's facialist. It's a great place to forget about classes, laugh with your friends, and dance a little. But in all honesty, it gets old really fast.

I drove a few girls over from the dorms. Saturday is our usual hang night. Although I've known these girls for almost four years I don't consider any of them my friends. They're more like 'friends' or: acquaintances that I associate with for social causes only. In translation they're the people I hang out with to make it look like I have friends, which is fine, because I'm the same to them.

If I wanted friends, real friends, I'm sure I wouldn't have a problem finding any. But telling people all your little secrets and letting them see your less-than-pretty habits just makes things complicated. I don't need a shoulder to cry on or sympathetic airhead to pour my heart out too. I just need a few sets of lips that help circulate and relay gossip.

We all gather around the bar and wait patiently for our drinks. I'm the last to make it over to our regular table, a martini in hand. I love the glares I get from the girls who only managed to get Cokes. Nicky is usually pretty strict about not serving the prep school kids alcohol. Thankfully, I've never gotten in trouble here; therefore he doesn't realize that my ID if completely fake and I'm really 18 years old, not 22.

The fact that I can pass for 22 is another characteristic I have that most other girls my age do not. This gives them another reason to hate me out of jealousy. Then of course there are the unfortunate few who can pass for old than 22 – much older. If your eyes lids are already droopy and your hair is thinning while you're still in your teens my advice to you is: get laid; fast, quick, and often.

A few 'friends' from my lit class are crammed around the small circular table. It's become a regular thing for us this semester to come here after a major English test. The past week we'd been studying The Deerslayer for Mr. Htims. I didn't like the book, didn't read the book, and probably didn't pass the test on the book. This doesn't upset me as I know I can find other ways to earn a passing grade with Mr. Htims.

Jackie, one of the girls from my lit class tips her head back and screams out of tune with the song currently playing on the jukebox. Jackie, like me, has access to Nicky's spiked stash. But if the stupid bitch doesn't stop knocking back shots she's going to get us kicked out soon.

I chuckle inwardly as a guy behind Jackie pinches her ass and causes her to spill her latest shot down the front of her shirt. Fiona, who's also drunk, notices this as well and laughs obnoxiously. Jackie is immediately insulted and makes a comment about Fiona's choice to eat a burger _and_ fries tonight.

Fiona is instantly silenced. Personally, I've never gotten along with Jackie. So I reach over and grab a handful of fries from Fiona's plate and stuff them in my mouth. I make sure to keep eye contact with Jackie the entire time. When I've swallowed I say, "You probably can't taste food anymore Jackie, with all the stomach acid stuck in your throat."

The rest of the girls gasp in shock like the proper, blue-blood bimbos they are. It's amazing that they've all morphed their faces into the exact same expression of shock. I snicker. I may come from money as well, but at least my brain is connected to something and doesn't sit stupidly in my head watching reruns of "Desperate Housewives".

Without a second thought I stand up, taking my drink with me. Nicky's is jam-pack crowded and I have to squeeze through a dozen bodies just to make it over to the game area. Some of those squeezes were more pleasant that others.

The best part about Nicky's is its central location on one of Spencer's main road. This road stretches through the neighboring three towns. Since this portion of Massachusetts is mostly rural and filled with 'historic society gems' there is very little to do for fun between here and Boston. That means that Nicky's attracts a wide variety of hot, bored, rich guys and I intend to meet some tonight.

With my martini glass still in hand I find a spot on the dance floor. This spot happens to be between a really cute guy and his date. He doesn't seem to mind, but the girl does. She shoots me a look and stalks off. I turn around to give Mr. Someone a full view of my chest which is barely contained in a dark brown tube top.

He smiles approvingly and grinds up against me. We enjoy ourselves for quite a while before his hand drifts down to my crotch. I am all for touching but this boy hasn't struck enough interest in me to let him that close this soon. So I grab his hand, twist a few fingers, and dance over to a freeloader in an Abercrombie Henley.

Mr. Abercrombie happily accepts my advances and soon his arms are wrapped around my waist as I lean into him with my hips moving intrusively against his. This one is much cuter than the previous specimen. I can feel his chest muscles as my back rubs against them. I look up and I'm sure I recognize his face from the fall sports poster. He's on the wrestling team.

I've never been too sure about those wrestling types. There's something weird about a person who enjoys rolling on a mat, clad in spandex, while locked in an embrace with another person also housing the same type of private parts. To avoid any awkward positions I saunter off to another couple.

This time the boy opens an arm for me to join him and his current partner. Ms. Flirt, as her shirt proclaims, makes no protest and grabs the guy by his side belt loop and rides up and down his leg. I follow her lead on the other side and soon we're both dancing up and down his body.

When I'm bored with this game I walk over to the jukebox, sipping the last of my martini. There's a couple of shy girls standing there, clearly dateless and friendless. I hate girls like that. They come to parties and stand there looking all lonely to make other people feel sorry for them. Then people who are having a good time feel guilty, which is just pointless.

If you're going to show up without man candy at least have the balls to steal some, or talk to some. Don't just stand there taking up space.

The current song is winding down. I fish a quarter out of my back pocket and slide it into the coin slot. The girls look up at me, clearly intimidated. I grin wickedly and flip through the selections until I find the perfect song. I select it, and then point to the screen while looking at the girls.

I dash to the side just as the two wallflowers glance at the screen and the dulcet tones of Josh Groban begin "You Raise Me Up".

"Who the hell chose this song?" Someone yells angrily from the floor. The voice belongs to a member of the neighboring town's swim team and he glances sharply at the girls who appear, to all the world, as if they're selecting songs from the jukebox. "Yo, I don't who you are but get the hell out of here if you're gonna fuck with the music."

Mortified the girls scurry away and I share a secret laugh with myself.

I never said I was a nice person.

Nicky's offers two pool tables, two ping-pong machines, a foosball table, and an air hockey game for entertainment. Since the time I've lived in this town, the air hockey table has never worked and the ball gets stuck on the spring in both ping-pong games. This means there is a constant battle for spots at pool and foosball.

One pool table, the one closer to the bar, is much better than the other. Unlike its twin this one has four legs, not three. The felt on the surface is not printed with various designs created by cigarette burns and other questionable stains and the balls haven't been glued back together with Elmer's.

It is at this fine station of billiard exertion that I spy Reid and Tyler, entranced in a game with two older men. From the looks of it, it's a couple of forty-year old guys against two high school juniors.

It's Reid's shot and his beanie clad head pops up in triumph as two solids slide into the pocket. Tyler nods in approval from behind him, looking scrumptious in a blue and white plaid shirt with chocolate cords.

Reid's next shot fails and the fatter of the older men lines up his stick. His _pool_ stick that is – I don't think his other one works without some form of drug enhancement. Surprisingly he hops the white ball over a solid and sinks one of the stripes. Reid's grin immediately changes to a frown.

Fat guy misses on his second go, leaving Tyler to sink the 7 and 8 ball for the win. Reid makes a big show of presenting Tyler with an exaggerated bow and hand flourishes. "And the boy who will earn us both a pretty purse tonight… Tyler Simms," Reid claps approvingly.

Tyler accepts Reid's applause and bows before their nonexistent crowd. Well maybe I shouldn't say nonexistent. Slumped against tables and counters near the pool game are at least a dozen doe-eyed girls eagerly watching the boys' every move. I lean against the bar, far enough away not be seen with these drooling wannabes, but close enough to see the pool table.

Tyler spends more than enough time checking the angles on his shot and finally sets his stick down to shoot. It's a hard shot, straight across the diagonal of the pool table. If either of the balls strays too much from the desired path they could hit one of the stripes and knock them in.

I feel my fingers tighten around the martini glass as Tyler pulls back to take the shot. The white ball connects perfectly with the eight ball, sending it and the 7 straight into the far corner pocket. It's a beautiful shot, and it would have guaranteed Reid and Tyler a hundred bucks…if the white ball hadn't gone in with them.

Fat man 1 and 2 laugh loudly at the boys, their immense beer bellies shaking over the waist of their jeans. Tyler stays in his bent position, as if frozen in shock. Reid, however, has no problem expressing himself.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he exclaims. "We've been playing for three hours and you screw our biggest deal of the night by _scratching_?" He throws his pool stick across the table, clearly intending to hit Tyler. The target easily side steps the assault and sends Reid a death glare.

"Shut up," he says, "It's not like you've never missed a shot, not including the ones you scored with _divine intervention_."

I laugh from my seat at his comment. These boys may be many things but religious is not one of them.

"There's no reason you couldn't have made that," Reid argued. "You pay my share, pussy." The last word is said somewhat louder than the others and Reid marches off towards another group of people.

I see a muscle twitch in Tyler's jaw, but he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a leather wallet to pay the competition.

I get it now. Tyler is the sub in his relationship with Reid. They might be the school's most infamous tag team but when the going gets tough, Reid blames it on Tyler. It must be hard being the youngest of the four most popular boys in town.

After paying off the men, Tyler looks around for something to do. I can see he's a little lost without his twin calling the shots. Poor Tyler. Maybe he needs a little cheering up.

He slowly drifts in the direction of the rest of the Sons, who are seated at table in the far corner of the room. It's like they all have some pack-animal instinct, I swear. Neither one of them can stand to be seen alone for too long.

Quickly, I sneak up behind him and blow on his ear. Some people find this coy action stupid or childish. That's because they don't know how to do it right. He turns to find the source and I keep my head in the exact same plane, so his lips match up with mine when his neck is fully craned.

"Hey there," I said quietly. I vaguely remember that the last thing I put in my mouth was an alcoholic beverage which probably didn't have the best of smells. But there was no need to worry; my breath was minty as ever. "Tough game?"

I can tell that some of girls who were part of their audience during the pool match are still hanging around, hoping to be the lucky lady who provides the losers with a consolation prize. Tyler doesn't seem too aware of this and he doesn't even take a glance around the room to see if there are better possibilities before settling both hands low on my hips.

"Well," he smirks, "I'm a little frustrated. That was quite a tough shot and I did technically sink both balls," he explains. He eyes glances ever so slightly down to his pants and I can't help but laugh at how forward this kid is acting. I expected Baby Boy – I've heard Reid call him that a few times in mockery – to be a little more prudent.

Then again, it's not like his 'big brothers' believe in taking it slow. I would know.

"Oh I see," I bring my lips down to his neck and lightly suck on the skin exposed over his collar. He backs up, leaning against the pool table, despite the new group of people that had quickly claimed the free space once Reid walked away. In this position I am leaning over him, happily in control.

Sub. Hehe.

His hands tighten around my hips, egging me on. "I can sink balls too, baby." Admittedly, this is not one of my best lines. But apparently, Tyler doesn't count suaveness as a required characteristic for girls he gets dirty with. All it took was one crappy innuendo and he is half carrying, half dragging me past the pool tables, through the dance floor, around the bar and into…the storage closet.

"Uh," I look around disgustedly as he sits me on top of a Craftsmen tool drawer, covered with dust and pulls a chain to turn on the single light bulb hanging above our heads, "I have a rule about janitor's closets." My mother would be proud of the prissy, sarcastic tone my voice adopted.

"Shut up," he grunts, pulling his shirt open in a style not unlike that of Hulk Hogan. He clutches the belt loops on my jeans and pulls me forward, kissing the soft spot under my chin forcefully. He wastes no time getting his tongue across my jaw or my tube top shoved down and jeans unbuckled.

As his fingers push my panties aside and his free hand comes up to turn my head so he can suck on my neck I feel like screaming. When the hell did submissive Tyler turn into the Dominator? I'm sure there's some Freudian term for this; people who are often suppressed by their group of friends tend to be more assertive in intimate relations. But I couldn't care less what psychological disorder Tyler has. His overpowering ruthless force was completely turning me on.

Maybe I have sadistic tendencies. Well, now's the time to experiment.

I got a little more comfortable on the tool drawer and shook my jeans further down my legs. I felt his fingers inside me, pushing and prying. Bringing my hands up to his head, I ran them through his hair. His was thicker than anyone else so far. As his lips grew more assertive on my neck, I began to nibble his ear – the only part of his face I could get my lips near to.

Tyler is a very good kisser. Although there is a rushed feeling to the pattern his lips are tracing on the skin just above my chest, they feel intensely warm and powerful. His tongue is involved in a way that doesn't feel as if I'm being licked, but still makes its presence known. I move away from his ear and try to get our lips connected. Since my hands are still in his hair, I can direct his head to the proper angle.

But Tyler will have no part in it. He moves his head in the opposite direction I desire and resorts to placing small, short, pecking kisses along my collar bone as his hands finally rise to get some boob action. His refusal to give me what I want further supports my theory that Tyler definintely has control issues. It's kinda kinky.

Still desperate for a real mouth-to-mouth kiss, I bite my lip and roll my head back at the feeling of stimulation. My hands slip down from his head to his abdominal muscles. For the third time in nearly two weeks I send a silent prayer to God and whoever wrote the first check to fund Spenser's swim team.

My fingers trace happily over the individual curves and ridges of his chest and stomach. Then my hands drift up to his arms, feeling the meaty biceps. His hands have fallen from my breasts and are now undoing his own belt buckle.

I wonder why I didn't think of that sooner...

The instant he slides his zipper down, Tyler's fully erect member makes its appearance. I can't help but glance down quickly. A wicked grin plays on my lips as the long expanse of Tyler's manhood is displayed. Not very discreetly, I shimmy forward towards the edge of the tool drawer, eager for the real fun to begin.

I hear a sound of pleasure in the back of Tyler's throat, and he steps closer to me, pressing himself up against my thigh. But instead of entering, as I was expecting, he brings his lips down to face. He starts his sensuous kisses just below my eyelashes. Alternating between the left and right side, he places tiny kisses down my cheeks towards my lips. With each pressing peck, I get more and more expectant.

When his lips finally crash onto mine, I feel an explosion. This is partly because he chooses this moment to press himself – rather swiftly – inside me. But mostly because I am on the receiving end of possibly the best kiss I have ever had in my life. Instantly, his tongue is in my mouth, moving and massaging my own. His lips enclose and rub against mine and my face in on fire.

One of his hands is pressing my mouth against his from the back of neck. The other is digging his nails into the skin on my back. When he starts his pace the tool cart actually jolts, shocking me. My body is so torn between the growing force coming from between my legs and the heated kiss still going on with our lips.

Tyler is very good at multi-tasking.

As I feel the rush increase and my climax approach, his nails dig deeper into my skin, almost painfully. There will definitely be an odd mark there tomorrow. His lips also get more forceful, and less giving but more demanding, as he grips the back of my neck tighter.

The pressure of his hands, lips, and erections pushes into me from multiple sensor points at once and I feel the orgasm as it hits us both.

Then, suddenly, it's over. His lips vanish from my own, he pulls out quickly, and his hands are gone. When I open my eyes and drag my mind out of its pleasurable daze I see that his pants are already done up and he's re-buttoning his shirt.

For the briefest of seconds I'm stupefied. Then I quickly follow suit and rearrange my own clothing. During this process we do not talk, and there is little eye contact. I hop off the tool drawer and pull up my pants. The space is cramped and I end up brushing against him again. His body tenses quickly and I chuckle, running my fingers up his thigh like a spider.

He grabs my head around the jaw and pulls me forward for a quick, instantly heavy kiss on the lips. Just as suddenly he withdraws, but not before blowing on my lips.

"I may steel that trick that from you," he says, referring to when I blew on his ear, "Now, then. Shall we?"

And he pushes open the closet door; bringing us both back to the noisy, crowded, and beer smelling world of a teenage hang out. I walk out first, making sure my hips swing in the most alluring way. I know he is admiring from behind.

The storage closet is on the wall running along a side of the bar. Nicky looks up from the soda fountain as he's filling two glasses. I can see his mind slowly process us from behind two bushy, un-plucked eyebrows and a sheet of sweat.

As Nicky begins to walk towards us with a murderous expression Tyler shoots him a look that clearly says "What the fuck are you going to do about it?" I expect Nicky to pull out his baseball bat and show Tyler exactly what he plans to do about it. But the old man stops his march and shakes his head, angrily.

Tyler walks off in a different direction. Well, at least there's no worry of attachment with that one. As I turn to leave I continue to roll my hips, knowing that I have attracted a crowd. Several Spenser students have noticed that Tyler and I came out of the same storage closet and the gossip is spreading throughout the enclosed space quickly. There are sneers and snickers coming from both male and female students.

For some girls, this would be the walk of shame. For me, it's just another opportunity to strut in the spotlight.

I take my time and walk slowly out of the bar, winking at Nicky as I pass.

* * *

**Score:**

**3 for 3**

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Thank you so much for reading. Your reviews are wonderful. Sometimes I feel bad because this story's morals are horrible and the only reason it's popular is because it involves penises and orgasms...I still LOVE reviews!

-LeFay


	5. Drinking Down Danvers

Soo...I know I said Christmas vacation. It's now February vacation, so I'm only off by about five major holidays. My apologies. This story has one more chapter coming and I'm hoping to have it out soon. This chapter is longer (hehehe) than all the others. I took a completely different angle on this conquest than I had intended. Some will hate it, I'm sure, but it' meant to be funny. I also want to point out that 10,000 BC looks pretty cool.

On a side note, this story is pre-movie. There is a Kate, as previously stated, but there is no Sarah.

* * *

**The Conquests of _Kimberly Greene_**

**Part IV : Drinking Down Danvers**

* * *

Forty-three.

That was how many wide-set, marble stairs led up the slightly sloping hill to the terrace attached to the back of the Danvers Mansion. I counted each one because I wanted to remember which rock-hard step would snap the stiletto heel off my James Madden pumps.

Surprisingly, I managed to scale the stairs without damaging my shoes or even causing an unwanted wrinkle in my Jessica McClintock mini dress. What kind of moronic landscaping company paves a whole patio and fleet of stairs in marble? This design must be hell in the winter. I suppose though, with the Danvers money, there was no reason to go with a traditional wooden deck or, god forbid, synthetic.

Standing on the edge of the patio I took a slow sweep of the party's development thus far. The flyer that was passed around school said the party started at eight o'clock. It was now ten, but I had planned my arrival to be later than most. This enabled me access to the best liquor, because the hard stuff didn't come out before that clock struck a double-digit. I also didn't have to spend time waiting for more people to come, as the first guest often does.

Above my head was a string of paper lanterns, lit by colorful lights within them. The strand ran from one of the corners of the many gables on the Danvers mansion and attached to a column on the edge of the patio. That too was made of marble. There were dozens more lights like those and I couldn't help but wonder who had done the decorating for this party. Paper lanterns aren't exactly something a guy would come up with.

There was a good-sized crowd surrounding the snack table that had been set up outside. A huge, glass punch fountain was set up between two dirty kegs of beer. The comparison was a little humorous. I tucked my sparkly clutch underneath my arm and walked on.

Beyond the table, and down a few steps into a recessed area, was a small hot tub. Intrigued as I was, there was no room for me within the 15x15 foot square tub; at least forty people were crammed on top of each other, mostly without suits. And if the dimensions of said hot tub seem a little big to you it's because they are. The Danvers had their hot tub custom made. It was the talk of the school freshman year.

Next to the hot tub, which several people were crawling in from, was the pool. The in-ground pool was bordered on all sides by decorative rocks and had two waterfalls – one on each end. I cringed at the tackiness of the aquatic arrangement. I was also slightly confused; I thought the Danvers had a huge Olympic sized pool for Caleb and his friends to practice in.

But when I saw Pogue cannonball into the pool from one of the windows on the second level of the house, I remembered. The Parry's had the Olympic-sized pool. I'd had some good times in that thing at a previous Parry party.

Deciding it was time to mingle on the dance floor I stepped through the door way – the French doors of the patio had been removed from the hinges – and walked inside. At first I was in the kitchen where I grabbed a red cup filled with beer and then swayed into the main hall which had been converted into the open dance space.

There was a DJ, disco ball, strobe lights, and random pieces of Cray paper strewn about the hall. I was pleased to see a hearty selection of man candy to choose from tonight. Downing my drink, I pushed my way through the fringe of dancers and into the center of the floor. The music was hip-hop, but I didn't mind. Within seconds a boy approached me and we grinded together through some remix of a Diddy or Jay-Z rap song. They all sound the same to me, personally.

I looked over at the first boy I was to dance with tonight and found him to be quite to my liking. He was tall, maybe a little too tall, but the broad shoulders and large biceps made up for that. His hair was very light, a little more blonde than I usually go for, but alas, those things don't matter when you're happily horizontal.

I couldn't help but smile as thoughts of my last horizontal encounter with a blonde filled my mind. My intimate time with Reid on the Provost's desk is a fond memory that I often look back on, when I'm alone, in bed at night. Although that doesn't happen often because I'm rarely alone in bed.

"My name is Drake," Dancer 1 whispered in my ear, while my back was flush against him. I frowned. We weren't even through the first song and he was already trying to get personal. Groaning, I pushed him off me and went in search of another partner. I didn't have to search long. Two approached me from either side as I was making my way closer to the DJ. I giggled at being stuck between them, but I danced in a way that showed they were both welcome.

Neither of them seemed to mind sharing me. Dancer 2, on my left, was a better dancer. He could keep time better and followed my lead. But Dancer 3 was much better looking. His large green eyes and nicely tousled brown hair demanded attention almost as much as my own visage.

The song changed, several times, and we kept dancing. Dancer 2 left after the third song, following one of the lead girls on the Spencer Dance Team. This allowed Dancer 3 and me to get more acquainted. I slide my leg directly between his and push up a little with me knee. I was happy to feel that he was already excited, though not completely aroused.

Determined to fix that I hooked my arm around his neck and rubbed up against him, forcing his body to follow mine as I dipped to the floor. This dipping caused my dress to ride up and by the way his face – and member – reacted, I knew that Dancer 3 was now aware that had gone Commando tonight.

Unfortunately for Dancer 3, it was upon our ascension to an upright position that I looked beyond his face and saw something that got _me _excited: the DJ. I hadn't gotten a proper look at him before. But now, with the lighting in the right place, and the fact that he wasn't more than twenty feet away from me, albeit elevated on a small platform, I could see clearly his perfectly sculpted chin, the sleek wavy dark hair, and wonderfully shaped chest through his thin wife beater.

I dragged my eyes back to Dancer 3, smiled apologetically, and walked right up to the DJ stand, where I proceeded to danced in my most provocative style to the current song. DJ noticed me right away, and he nodded appreciatively as I dipped to the ground. He leaned back against the wall behind him and got comfortable watching me.

That is when something strange happened. This odd occurrence has never happened to me before and I wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Another girl walked up the DJ stand, putting the record table between myself and her. Then she proceeded to dance up against the DJ himself. His attention was quickly adverted to the girl currently rubbing her chest against his.

That girl was Kira Snider.

And the bitch calls _me_ a slut? I stared with a gaping mouth for about 2.5 seconds. Then I quickly snapped to attention, hiked my dress up a bit and walked behind the stand as well. Kira looked up from her spot on DJ's neck where she was giving him a hickey and glared at me. I smirked and shoved her to the side, latching onto DJ's neck and sliding one of my long legs between his. He reached behind me and changed the song to that ever-popular anthem by the Pussycat Dolls. I took it as a sign that I was going to win this battle.

Of course Kira wasn't used to not getting her way either. She attempted to shove me away but I clawed my hands into the DJ's back. He groaned at this, but not in a bad way. I locked my lips onto his and let my tongue explore the concavity of his mouth. His hands finally got involved and gripped my hips towards him. I chuckled against his lips.

Until Kira slammed her entire skanky, piss-drunk body against me and I fell onto the floor. DJ swayed a little on impact but remained standing. Kira, on the other hand, launched herself at me, pinned me to the floor and started slapping my face repeatedly.

I was vaguely aware of the roar from the crowd as they gathered around to watch the chick fight. Hoots and screams of encouragement erupted from the dance floor. Normally I love being the center of attention, but this was fucking ridiculous. Who did this ho think she was?

Without further thought I grabbed a chunk of Kira's grimy died hair and pulled. She screamed and brought both hands back to clutch her head. This gave me enough mobility to jam one of my knees into her…ass. Yes, I know a little weird. But all the same, she cringed inward and rolled off me.

I stood up, fixed my dress which was nearly exposing all of me, then kicked Kira in the stomach. I smirked, knowing I had worn my sharpest stilettos for a reason. I went to kick her again but the bitch grabbed my foot and twisted, causing me to fall back on my ass.

I let out a groan of frustration as new excitement emerged from the crowd. I was flat on my back when Kira freaking CLIMBED BETWEEN MY LEGS. Now, I'm not entirely surprised at her actions, but I CLEARLY do not swing that way. Was I in serious danger here?

But then she used that position to begin punching me in the jaw. She only got one good hit in before I smacked her across the face so I hard I knew she'd have a mark tomorrow. The force flipped her backwards and she fell into the DJ stand, knocking the records and equipment over as she fell into the middle of the dance floor.

Instantly the music stopped, DJ started screaming about deposits, and the entire party crowd started to boo. Kira looked up from her crumpled position beneath a mass of wires and broken albums. I noticed, proudly, that her lip was bleeding and the halter tie on her shirt had come undone. Many people in the crowd were snapping pictures of her exposed chest with their camera phones.

Whatever, it's not like they're real anyway.

A few boys came forward to help DJ turn his stand back over and attempt to salvage as much of the equipment as possible. No one helped Kira, not even Aaron, her daily fuckbuddy. I saw him snicker and turn into the kitchen.

With an air accomplishment I stood up, dusted my dress off and bowed to the crowd before me. They applauded enthusiastically as Kira ran out of the room, covering her chest with her arms and crying.

I stepped down from the platform and waved goodbye to the DJ. He looked shocked to see me go. It didn't matter though, I don't fight for boys; they fight for me. I headed into the kitchen and poured myself an overflowing cup of bear from the keg. I was surprised to see a keg here and wondered vaguely which room the Danvers's had their wet bar in. Every one of these huge mansions had their own bars, sometimes multiple bars.

Despite the cheap taste I happily sipped my bear as I made the rounds through the rest of the rooms open for partying. There was dancing in another room that on any other night may have been an old-fashioned sitting room. The music here was coming from speakers that must be wired to the DJ's stand. It was nice to know that DJ had gotten his gear up and working again.

I laughed out loud at my own crude thought.

I pushed through the double-oak doors into a side room. This room was clearly a billiard room as the giant pool table and card tables suggested. There was a game of strip poker being played in the corner. Beside that group were a couple of completely smashed kids playing quarters on a long table. It was the group playing pool that caught my eyes. I could recognize the blonde-haired boy standing next to an equally scrumptious brown-haired boy of taller height.

I smiled fondly as memories of my time with them filled my mind. But I was not here for repeats tonight. I scoped out their competition and noticed that they were playing a pair of boys from a neighboring prep academy, Notre Dame, in Hingham. I knew one of their names to be Zach. Zach was on the football team. We met in the cab of his pick-up truck one night after a game. If you can call Spencer v. ND football an actual game. Prep schools are not known for their football teams, the sport is too dirty…unless you're from St. John's.

But that's another story.

Anyways, Zach and his friend were clearly losing. Reid and Tyler were both grinning stupidly, a combination of alcoholic and endorphins I'm sure. If you can get an endorphin rush from playing pool. Zach's friend, whom I recognized but don't think I ever met, was setting up his shot.

There was a small crowd around the table, mostly girls. I pushed my through and placed my beer cup on the table, right in front of the boy's cue. He looked up and was about to yell something vulgar before he got a good glimpse up my legs and down the top of my dress. I nodded, knowingly and then turned to address the rest of the table.

"Let's make this game more interesting, boys," I announced. I saw Tyler tense as though about to throw me out of the way of his clear victory. Reid leaned casually on his cue, tipping his hair out of his eyes to survey me. "Since we all know the winners are about to get laid by their choice of Spencer's most…easiest," and I gestured at the gaggle of google-eyed girls behind me, "I'm willing to donate a little something to the loser's side."

The four pairs of masculine eyes shot up to mine and I smiled wickedly. Then I grabbed the nearest hand of the identified boy from Notre Dame and placed it right on my crotch. The sudden movement surprised him and he coughed. But the contact made his eyes light up and I felt his fingers clench suggestively against the sleek fabric of my dress.

Oh yea, he totally knew I wasn't wearing underwear…

"Loser get's to come with me into the coat closet for ten minutes and touch…anything they want," I laughed as I saw four Adam's apples slide up and down. I could see the losers grinning obnoxiously at their turn of luck. I also saw the winners glance at each other and contemplate their situation. All four of these boys were loaded, which meant there was serious money on the table. It also meant none of them needed to play pool to get cash, a lack of motivation which I never understood.

"So what'll it be boys," I turned to Reid and Tyler, "Tiny ego trip from winning at pool…or massive ego trip from getting free range to cop one of the best of feels of your life?" I cocked an eyebrow and picked up my cup, slapping the hand away from my crotch and taking a few steps back to lean against the wall.

There was at least a full minute before anyone moved at the pool table. Tyler glared at me with fully loaded hatred. Reid just shot me an amused grin and laughed. Zach and his friend looked like two kids on Christmas morning. Wasting no more time, Zach's friend lined up the shot and barely tapped the cue ball. It moved maybe three inches, not even enough to touch any of the surrounding balls.

There were still five balls left on the table and the game went painfully slow. Zach and his friend were clearly fine with losing, but Reid was determined to drag this out as much as possible. Probably just to piss me off. He took his sweet time setting up his shot, and purposely positioned himself so that his butt – his very, very, fine butt – was just barely touching me when lined up a shot on my side of the table.

Despite the instant shock I felt below my waist, I pretended to yawn. They could take as much time as they wanted.

While the boys played their stupid little game, I took note of my surroundings. I was standing beside a stone statue of a gargoyle. Since I haven't done any drugs for a while, I'm pretty sure I wasn't hallucinating. On my other side, a stone sphinx sat proudly on a pillar, similar to the gargoyle's perch. It is true what they say: people who are filthy rich often have horrible decorating taste. That is why the smarter of the sect hire other people to decorate their homes.

Caleb Danvers's mother obviously thought she had superb taste in decorating, because no professional decorator would have ornamented a living room with statues of mythical creatures.

I was pulled out of my trance on bad decorating by a whoop of victory from Tyler and Reid. Apparently neither of them cared that they had lost the better of the two prizes, or that their opponents had clearly lost on purpose. A thick wad of money was exchanged and Zach and his turned around to face me with hungry leers.

I slowly picked a nonexistent piece of lint off of my dress. "Listen, boys," I began. "I said the loser can have me for ten minutes. Not the _losers_," and they both looked so perplexed it was almost cute.

I really didn't mind spending time with both of them in the closet but I knew from experience that Zach was very demanding and he might push his friend off the swing set, if you know what I'm saying.

"So, since your friend here obviously missed more shots," I frowned at Zach, "Looks like tonight ain't your night Zach."

Zach scoffed and went to grab my arm, but I snuck underneath his hand and pulled his friend away. We found the coat closet, full of what could only be Mrs. Danvers's fur collection.

Screw ten minutes; we didn't come out for two hours.

-- KG --

When we finally did come out, the party was dying down. Zach's friend, whose name I still didn't know, was an amazing kisser…in multiple areas. He was standing behind me, fixing the button on his shirt.

"Could you zip my dress, please?" I asked coyly, and he gladly obeyed. During our time together he had asked for my number. I gave him my roommate's home number, for her house in Pennsylvania. He was good, but I couldn't afford anymore distractions. I was so close to accomplishing my goal and, while a break was nice, I couldn't be swayed from the path again.

We parted ways and I walked slowly through rooms that were sparsely filled with late-partygoers. It looked like Reid and Tyler had left the pool table. I had no clue where they may have gone off to, but I wasn't looking for them specifically.

I needed to find Caleb Danvers.

This was his party, although whatever occasion it was thrown for is unknown to me. I hadn't seen him all night. Still, I knew he had to be here. All of his 'brothers' were here, so Caleb couldn't be far.

He wasn't in the sitting room, or the main dance hall, or the kitchen, or the billiard room. I snuck out onto the patio quickly and checked to see if he was in the pool. He wasn't, although I only spared a quick glance. The hot tub and pool were still filled with people, but they were paired into couples whom I'm sure were about to change the liquid consistency of the water they were…swimming…in.

I sighed in frustration as I made one more lap through the bottom floor of the house. Caleb was nowhere to be found. I frowned, grabbed a half-empty bottle of Bicardi from the kitchen and set off for my car.

The Danvers had this huge front pavilion that looked out onto their extra-long driveway and wrap-around car park. I had parked my car further down the road, partly because I arrived late and the front spots were taken but also because I knew the people who parked up front would be the most smashed when they left and the most likely to crash into other cars.

I cringed as I gazed at the driveway before me. When I had arrived at the party, I walked around the house, via the lawn, and entered through the back. This time I had to walk straight down the driveway…the cobblestone drive. I suppose cobblestones are cute, another piece of Mrs. Danvers's decorating I'm sure. But walking on cobblestones in heels is like walking on coals with bare feet.

But I didn't complain. I stuck my chin up, adjusted my dress, and began the treacherous journey.

The night air was fairly chilly and I walked quickly to my car. My heels, still in tack, made sharp clipping noises on the pavement. I passed a few drunken bodies on the lawn, but paid little attention to them. When I got to my car I opened the door, got in, adjusted my mirror, and turned the ignition-

Without keys. Because I didn't have my keys. Because I didn't have my purse.

I screeched loudly at my own stupidity. I had just walked nearly half a mile down this stupid, cobblestone drive way in three-inch heels only to find I had left my purse in some unknown location back at the house. Honestly, if my keys weren't in there, I wouldn't go back for it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I made my way back to the house. I am ashamed to say I stumbled at one point. Despite years of perfecting my walk in heels I was unable to manage a perfectly balanced walk back to the front porch of the Danvers mansion. By the time I had climbed back up the front steps my feet were aching. Maybe that's why I tripped over something as I was making my way towards the door.

"Ouch," a voice said from underneath me, as I realized I had tripped over a person, "You should no be walking on me."

I shut my eyes to gather patience as I instantly realized that this person was completely drunk. Fortunately they broke my fall. I rolled over and managed to get balanced on my knees when I realized the person who was laying spread eagle on the marble – yes marble – flooring of the front porch was Caleb Danvers.

Several thoughts crossed my mind at the same time. The first was that I was extremely lucky. The second was how badly Caleb smelled like a horribly intoxicating alcoholic drink. Finally, I realized that there was absolutely no one else around to see us.

"Jeez, why don't you watch where you are going," he slurred at me. I noted happily that his deep voice, while a little unstable, still made my heart thud a little quicker. Although the light was dim, the only source coming from the windows of the house, I could tell that Caleb's Oxford shirt had been unbuttoned and his hair was wet and disheveled.

I was nearly speechless. Here was a sight I never thought I, or anyone else, would ever bear witness to. First-in-his-class, all-around golden boy Caleb Danvers was piss ass-drunk on his own front porch. And I was the lucky girl who was going to take advantage of him.

I slid my knees out from under me so I was half laying on the porch beside him. I angled myself so my legs were nearest to his head. The top half of my body I had propped up on one elbow, my cleavage hanging out.

Caleb also readjusted himself, interlacing his fingers and sliding them behind his head. He looked completely relaxed. "I don't think we had enough beer tonight," he began, speaking to the pillar beside him, "Do you think we had enough beer?"

At this he turned his face toward me and I saw his eyes nearly pop out of his head. "Hey! You're a girl." I could not comment on his exclamation as I was pretty sure I had swallowed a wad of my own spit. "Wanna make out?"

His request was so random and unexpected that, again, I was speechless. But instantly Caleb was crawling towards me, not unlike an animal, and wrapped a hand around my head, pressing my lips into his. His kiss was rushed, sloppy, and smelled bad. The alcohol was so potent I couldn't even begin to guess what, or how much, he had drunk tonight.

Vaguely I remembered hearing rumors about Mrs. Danvers having a substance abuse problem. I guess the apple doesn't rot far from the tree.

Caleb continued to assault my lips and started to push me down into a horizontal position with his other hand. My head hit the marble with a thud and I groaned into his mouth. He pulled back a little and laughed, "Sorry, did you get a booboo?" On the word 'booboo' he started laughing uncontrollably.

Eager to take control, I spread my hands over his exposed chest, reveling in the feel of his massively defined pecks and abdomen. I pushed his shirt off, over his shoulders and he tossed it away onto the front lawn. Then he straddled my hips and rested both of his hands on top of my barely concealed breasts.

"Nice," he commented, patting them, "Firm." Then he began to grope my chest like he'd never touched a rack before. I hastily pulled his neck to my lips, if anything to give me something to do. His skin, although a little sweaty, was sweet and felt delicately smooth beneath my lips. I let my own hands continue to adore his chest and gasped regularly as he pinched my nipples.

After a few long minutes of that, Caleb sat up a bit so he had better access below my waste. "Okay, up you go!" He chuckled and pushed the skirt of my dress far enough up my torso to completely expose everything it was meant to cover. "Whoa!" He exclaimed loudly. I jumped in surprise beneath him.

"You're not wearing any underwear!" he gasped. Then Caleb started laughing, almost giggling. His body shook so hard that he slumped over and slid off of me. "Who doesn't wear underwear? Who are you? Britney Spears? Even I'm wearing underwear? Wanna see?" He didn't move to show me, but kept laughing, trying to stop the noise by covering his mouth with both hands.

I rolled my eyes at his immaturity, reminded myself that he was too far gone, and decided to take control of the operation. I rolled over so I was on top of him. "Yes, Caleb," I whispered quietly, so close to his ear I was nearly licking it, "I do want to see your underwear."

And with that I roughly undid his belt, unzipped his fly, and pulled his pants all the way down to his ankles. I was pleased to see the obvious erection popping out of his Calvin Klein's. I wondered if Caleb modeled for the brand. If not, he should. He wouldn't need the sock.

My musings ended when Caleb's hands pushed me onto my back and suddenly shot up to grab my inner thighs. Then he began to finger me with one hand. "You have very tan skin," he told me, nodding as he looked up and down my legs.

Now, just to clarify…I've had sex while I was drunk. I've had sex while drunk with sober people and I've had sex while drunk with other drunken people. I don't think I can honestly say that I've been sober – and I was barely sober – while attempting intercourse with someone who was as far gone as Caleb was. Not only was this a huge black mark on his reputation but I was starting to understand that Caleb was a loose drunk. Most people let go of their inhibitions while under the influence. Caleb clearly had a lot of inhibitions to let go of.

"Hey, there was a party tonight," he said randomly, his fingers slipping out from inside me and leaving me nearly on the edge, panting for more. "You should have come, we could have danced together. But I had to dance with the cheerleaders who decorated. I would have made time for you, though." Then his eyes focused on something behind me and I realized he must be looking into one of the windows.

"That's it," I said out loud. If Caleb decided to go ADD right before we were about to hit heaven, then I was going to coax him back into focus. I twisted my body – hard to do in a constricting dress – and rolled us so he hit the patio floor and I was on top, straddling him. I pulled his boxers down and bent over his chest, trailing little kisses from his jaw line down to the ever-so-soft skin right above his member.

My advances got his attention, "That feels nice," he said. When I started to kiss his tip lightly and circle it with my tongue his lower body jerked upward. "Holy shit," he exclaimed. I did my best not to notice his hand clenching my hair, attempting to push my mouth further down. I don't blow just anyone and I certainly wasn't about to give Caleb a freebie when he could barely control himself anyway.

I was about to pull his hands out of my hair when he dropped them abruptly and pointed up at the sky. "Hey, look at the stars," he commented, "My friend Tyler likes the stars. He was obsessed with Star Wars when we were kids." I groaned in frustration, hitching my skirt up higher and getting ready to make a final move.

"Do you know Tyler?" Caleb asked me, "He's a nice kid. Him, Pogue, Reid, and I…we're good friends. We've known each other forever."

"That's nice," I told him. Then I wrapped my hand around his warm shaft, gave him a few good strokes and quickly positioned myself above him. On the way down I felt his size fill me completely. He was already squirming beneath me, unable to keep still. I had to pause for a moment just to recollect my senses.

Caleb seemed to finally clue in on the fact that we were having sex. His hands launched back up to my breasts again and he began fondling them through the fabric. "What's your name?" he asked me, but choked on the last few words as I began to rock back and forth on him.

"It's Kim," I told him, "Now be quiet Caleb, we're getting to the best part." I don't think I've ever heard the kid talk so much before in my life.

"What's that?" he asked, genuinely clueless. I quirked an eyebrow and gestured to our connected nether regions. "Oh," and he started laughing again. I laid my hands firmly on his chest and lowered my mouth to his, still keeping pace with my hips. I don't expect the guy to do the work all the time but I wasn't used to having to do everything.

"Kim," he said, a little too loudly against my lips, "You're really good at this."

"I know," I told him quickly.

"When I was younger, I was with Pogue," he started, "And I met this girl and –

I slammed my hand across his mouth, shaking my head. I just wanted him to shut up! How much did he freaking drink anyway? He was beyond retarded and there was no reason why a perfectly good specimen of red-hot masculine testosterone shouldn't be thoroughly – and quietly – enjoying the service I was giving him. I wouldn't care if he was screaming out my name in ecstasy, but I really didn't need to hear stories about his youth.

I worked harder, hoping that if he got closer to climaxing he may come to his senses a bit more. I realize the psychological side of sex doesn't usually work like that, most people become insane while they're approaching an orgasm. But Caleb obviously wasn't psychologically sound right now.

At least I knew that I was having a good time, if I could tune out his senseless ramblings. His hands were still manipulating my breasts, sending shivers down my spine with every bit of contact. My rocking had quickened, and I was feeling more comfortable mounted on top of him.

I lay down on his chest and arched my back as I felt my toes curl in. I knew he was close too because his hands had clamped – not unpleasantly – around my breasts. Breathing heavy I forced myself to keep us moving against the tension that I felt was about to erupt from my body.

That was when I had my biggest shock of the night. Caleb pulled a move that would have made Mr. Miyagi proud and flipped me on to my back, settling on top of me while still managing to stay firmly lodged inside of me. All talking ceased and I looked up into his face to see his eyes determined and not a bit hazy.

One hand gripped my hip as he pushed into me harder and harder each time, the other I felt resting between my lips on a very sensitive nub. As his fingers worked and his nails bit into the skin on my hip and I arched my back against the cold marble floor and I felt him explode inside me, far more potent than any of my previous conquests. Instantly after he filled me I let out a shriek as I my own body shook with pleasure. I could not contain the spasms or slur of words that erupted from my mouth as I rode waves of bliss back down to earth.

Sweaty, panting, and more than a little wet I laid motionless on the patio floor as Caleb slid out of me and dropped to lay down beside me. Then he started laughing again.

"That was fucking great!" he exclaimed through near-girlish giggles. I was still beyond speaking so I just nodded in his direction as I tried to catch my breath. What I had thought was going to be a lame ride on Spencer's top dog ended up being one of the most surprising orgasms of my life.

We both lay there for at least ten minutes, allowing our bodies to readjust. Caleb began talking, but I tuned him out. He reached out to pet my butt at one time and I rolled out of his reach. This action caused me to have a perfect view of the many objects stuffed beneath one of the porch chairs. Among them happened to be my purse.

Deciding it was time to go I stood up, a little dizzy from the quick motion, and pulled my dress back down, reaching over to pick up my purse. I heard the jingle of keys from within. "Goodnight, Caleb," I told him, speaking like he was a very slow child.

"Wait!" he asked, stopping in the middle of what I'm sure was an extremely boring story about his boyhood, "Don't you live here?"

I didn't bother to respond as I set out across the cobblestone walkway back to my car. Let's just say walking was a lot more difficult this time.

* * *

**Score:**

**4 for 4**

**(I win)**

* * *

Not as graphic as previous chapters, but I'm hoping it was still entertaining. I couldn't see Caleb as someone who would randomly hook up with Kim. But I DO think he would be hilarious drunk and I imagine that "Mr. Strong Silent type" would let his tongue go given enough alcohol.

Please review, I'd really like to hit 60!

-LeFay


	6. Five Way Flood

So I finally finished it. I'm sure that nearly all of the readers for this story have long since lost interest. But I felt the need to offer a closing chapter, just let you all know how this conquest of Kimberly Greene truly ended. If you've been reading since the beginning, thank you. It's been nearly two years since I've started this story. I hope you can agree that Kimberly goes out in style.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Covenant.

* * *

**The Conquests of _Kimberly Greene_**

**Part V: Five Way Flood  
**

* * *

My reflection rippled below me, obscured by the chlorinated water and geometric pattern of the tiles on the pool floor. In a school this expensive only the best cleaning equipment was used and those tiles were shining, even under ten feet of water.

Spenser had two pools. One was for regular gym class, recreation, and swim team practice. This one was used only for swim meets. That's why it was larger, cleaner, and currently empty.

Except for me.

I pulled the elastic out of my hair, letting the soft ringlets fall onto my bare back. Then I arched my body and dove into the deep end of the pool. I didn't need a platform to get significant height out of my dive. My legs were muscular enough to accomplish a perfect low swan dive.

The instant I hit the water I felt every pore of my body exfoliate. Swimming was actually a pastime of mine. Before moving to Spencer I used to spend hours in the pool at my parent's house. Unfortunately, chlorinated water didn't do much for one's complexion, and it was horrible on hair follicles.

But I have since discovered Paul Mitchell's Swimmer's Dream shampoo. As a result, random skinny dips into the pool after hours were a common habit of mine. No one bothered me, I got some alone time, and there was a sweet satisfaction in knowing that committing an R-rated offense in one of Spenser's most prized recreational areas.

Just before hitting the bottom of the pool I curved my body and drifted back up to the surface, reveling in the taste of air. When I had gulped down enough oxygen, I treaded water in the center of the deep end, reflecting on my weightlessness. It barely took any effort to stay afloat, to simply sit peacefully, surrounded by the still water.

My long hair was stuck to the back of my neck, but flayed out lightly where it hit the water. That was a funny quality about water; how, when underwater, hair always floats as if it's being blown by the wind. When you look at someone while they're underwater their hair looks completely dry. Weird.

The silence of the pool was almost overwhelming; every ripple my limbs made was ten times louder than it would have been, had someone else been here. I wasn't complaining though. I liked the quiet. My floor in the dorms was notorious for the loud music blasting at horrible hours in the morning. My roommate was a fan of Hillary Duff – kill me now.

After a few minutes I laid back and floated aimlessly, eventually drifting towards the far corner, by the ladder. I smiled at nothing, closing my eyes and just enjoying being me. I had a lot to be proud of. I had successfully completed my quest with the 'Sons'. Now I was four times more experienced and four times more game. I'm pretty sure no other girl in the school could boast the record I had.

I was silently basking in my own glory when I was rudely pulled out of my stupor by a loud yell and a splash coming from the other end of the pool. I spluttered and flailed my legs ungracefully, attempting to right myself as much as possible while floating in ten feet of water.

After gripping the concrete edge of the pool wall I turned and was shocked to see three gorgeous bodies of pure masculinity standing on the edge of the opposite side of the pool, glaring in disappointment at a figure now submerged in the deep end. Someone had cannonballed.

But when a head of disheveled blond hair rose above the water I was overjoyed to calculate that he was Reid Garwin and the three boys standing over him were Caleb, Pogue, and Tyler.

In spedos!!!!

I almost drowned myself due to the shock. My legs got numb and I stopped moving for a few seconds. Reid had his back to me; he was making rude hand gestures at the other boys lined up on the edge of the shallow end. I don't think I fully appreciated his extensive back muscles during the intimate time we spent together. But here, sweetly glistening with water droplets, I admired the curves of his shoulder blades, the tightness of the skin as his muscles ran up his spine.

I had to take a deep breath to regain full consciousness. Reid dove beneath the water and swam back towards the other end. Pogue took the less reckless route and did a running dive into the water, arching expertly before hitting the shallow bottom.

I smiled like an idiot when he rose above the surface: that chest was a work of God. Seeing the tiny drops of water race down the creases in his abdomen and run into the tucked away lower portions of his body made me wish I could be a rain drop. Then Caleb sat down on the edge of the pool, with his legs spread as leaned back to stretch, and I gasped. David Beckham would be impressed by that bulge. I remembered, fondly my time exploring its true dimensions.

Luck was my best friend in deed. I wondered how long it would take them to notice that I was here, but the view while I waited was more than welcome. Then something happened that I wasn't expecting.

"We really should run some laps, at least practice the relay a few times before the meet," Caleb insisted. Reid groaned and I'm pretty sure I saw Pogue grimace at his best friend's nerdy suggestion.

"Fuck that!" Reid shouted, climbing out of the shallow end of the pool. The way his ass tightened as he lifted his leg made me lose my grip on the edge. But what Reid did next caused me to nearly drown myself. He stood up, pulled his spedo off in a flash chucked the discarded cloth at Caleb, "Coach says you can't compete without the regulation uniform!" and he cannonballed into the water again, with his pride and glory hanging out for the world to see.

I let out a gargled scream when I resurfaced. The sight of Reid stripping down to his birthday suit and then wriggling the goodies mid air sent my body into a pleasurable paralysis, unfortunately that caused me to sink. When I regained my grip on the wall my outburst had caused enough noise to attract their attention.

Three heads shot towards me at once, Reid still beneath the water. When he did resurface he was laughing, "Come on Ty! Get your ass in here!" Reid glanced over at Pogue who was closest to him in the water, "What's the shit?"

Caleb never took his gaze from me, "There's a girl in the pool."

Reid's eyes lit up and turned, scanning the water until he saw me in the far corner, "And she's naked."

We were all silent for a moment until Tyler spoke, walking towards me, "Kim right? What are you doing here so late?" His eyes never got higher than my chin; he was clearly gazing down at me from his perfect position outside of the pool.

"I like to swim," I answered like a moronic imbecile. They were all here! All _four_ of them! Girls have wet, fantasy dreams about moments like these and I was about to experience a private show.

"How did you get in here?" Pogue asked, and I noticed he was slowly swimming towards me, "It was locked."

I licked my lips, making sure I had complete control of my voice before I spoke, "The swim captain from last year…he came up short so I stole his key," I was proud of myself, that came out much more controlled than I thought it was going to. It was so hard to remain contained. I was in a pool, naked, surrounded by four perfect slates of masculinity who were almost as completely naked as me, except for Reid whom I was beginning to think was a exhibitionist.

Every nerve in my body was on fire. My nipples were clearly erect beneath the surface of the water and there was a slight tingling churning below my stomach. There were so many things to look at. I wanted to rake my fingers through Pogue's wet hair, run my nails against Reid's pecks, squeeze Caleb's biceps, and reach up and grab Tyler's –

"Well," Caleb forced me to focus my eyes before they rolled into the back of my head. He threw his seated body off the side of the pool and swam up quickly, "Damn the water's cold," he stopped in mid stroke, "are you cold?"

Suddenly, much too fast for normal human speed, they were within inches of me. I mean it was like creepy, I must have blinked and there they were, Reid directly in front of me, Pogue and Caleb on either side of him, effectively trapping me into my corner, and Tyler crouched down behind me, his breath hitting the back of my neck.

Four pairs of eyes were on me now, drilling into my bare skin. The smell of chlorine was overpowered by the cologne that they were all wearing during the day. It was a pleasant mixture of Abercrombie and some type of Ralph Lauren. Thankfully inhaling was something I was still able to automatically. I was quickly losing control over most other functions.

Reid ducked beneath the water, not moving from his place, before coming straight up, his blond hair sticking to his forehead, the way it did after our session in the office. "Did you know I can see underwater?" he asked, "We all can." Caleb and Pogue grinned.

Pogue mimicked Reid's movements and when he resurfaced he said, "Well since you're obviously freezing," he gestured to my shaking body – shaking from possibly be the start of the world's first no-contact-necessary orgasm – and my standing nipples "the quickest was to raise your temperature would be body contact."

Reid floated just a little closer to me, as close as possible while still keeping an inch of water between our skins, "The only rule is, you only get to touch me where I touch you."

I hiccupped in the back of my throat, my body jerking forward. In that moment Pogue swam behind me, holding my arms behind my back and wrapping his feet around mine to keep me from moving any limbs. "I'll just make sure you abide by the rules," he whispered gutturally in my ear. I don't know how he was keeping us both afloat, because he wasn't moving either. I also don't know how the pool suddenly became filled with bubbles, as though water jets from a hot tub had been installed.

What I do know is that when Reid's left hand reached out to cup my breast and Caleb's hand darted between my legs to follow the curvature of my upper thighs, all I could think of was how big the number four really is.

It's fucking big.

I sighed and moaned at the same time as I felt Caleb's fingers slip between my lower lips. In the water, everything felt smoother, with less friction between the surfaces of his skin and mine. His digits pressed hard against sensitive areas and I arched myself towards him. I pressed my body hard into Pogue behind me, feeling my back rub against the raised regions of his stomach. All of this happened while Reid was rubbing my nipples between his fingers, twisting and turning and always holding them just above the water the level.

Vaguely, I wondered where Tyler was in this equation. As if on cue the boy reached down from his position outside the pool and pushed my head back, holding my chin in place. Then he hung himself over the pool's edge and met my lips with his. Instantly, I responded, as well as I could with so many other things to distract me. Tyler's full, dominating lips expertly sucked on mine, with his tongue getting plenty of action as well.

This went on for several long, magnificent minutes: my body rubbing against Pogue, Caleb rubbing against me, Reid flicking and sucking the life out of my breast, and Tyler pleasuring my lips as I quietly moaned in happiness. I felt drugged. There were no reactions coming from my body other than automatic responses to pure pleasure.

Some exchange of words must have gone on between Reid, Pogue, and Caleb but I was far too incompetent to understand them. So when the shifting of bodies took place around me, I was surprised. Caleb slid in behind me while Pogue floated off to my side. Reid was still positioned in front and I could see, slightly distorted through the water, his happy erection taking a swim.

Reid swam closer, gripped my hips and positioned himself for what I realized too late that he was about to do. He slammed into me quickly, causing my body to thrash backwards. I was grateful to find myself smacking into Caleb's hard chest, those glorious biceps tightening around my upper body to hold me in place. His elbows just brushed against my nipples, which were bobbing in and out of the water. If I wasn't the perfectly willing and easily subdued girl that I am, this could be considered gang rape.

Hell, I will volunteer to be gang raped by the Sons of Ipswich any day.

I choked back a groan as Reid set a pace and thrust into me again and again. Caleb let my bucking body slam into his repeatedly and I could feel his hard-on against my backside, still bulging against the fabric of his swimsuit. Tyler reached down again and this time clamped his hand around my lower jaw, forcing me to continue our above-the-surface make-out session while his other hand got tangled fiercely in my wet hair.

Suddenly there were more hands on me, Pogue's hands. Each was dedicated to titillating and torturing each of my breasts. I remembered with pleasure how well skilled his hands had been during our last encounter. He had me moaning against Tyler's lips with an increased volume, as Reid's pushes into my pelvic bone increased the speed of my throaty howls.

I was being manipulated on all of the censor points of my body, pushed to the highest peaks of pleasure by the four hottest and most talented men I have ever encountered. It was almost painful how good it felt. Internally, I felt myself rise past the highest point I had ever been, the pressure and the pleasure just kept building and building.

My eyes were shut as my head was bent backwards allowing Tyler to suck on my neck. The sensory deprivation and the added affects of the water made this time like no other. Everywhere on my body there were hands. Hands on my breasts, hands in my hair, hands on ass, my thigh, digging into my hips, running down spine…

I could feel Reid throbbing inside me, just seconds before release. I knew it was going to be big. I could feel the spasm starting in me. They came from everywhere: my clit, my breasts, my lips, and all the sensitive places on my back and upper thighs that Caleb was now caressing. I was screaming against Tyler's lips as he refused to relinquish control of my mouth.

Reid gave one last push and exploded. His fingers dug into my hips, our bodies shook, splashing water everywhere, Pogue gripped both of my nipples hard, forcing the pressure to fuel my orgasm and Caleb rocked his body into me from behind. I screamed and screamed and yelled each of their names as I rode wave after wave of incredible chlorinated bliss. The only thought that managed to process inside my head was this: there's still three more to go.

"Kim would you fucking wake up!"

I nearly screamed at the loud intrusion. My eyes opened and suddenly I was awake, in a brightly lit dorm room at Spencer. I was breathing heavily, panting actually. I could feel small beads of sweat taping my hair to my scalp. The sheets of my bed were twisted around my legs and upper body, my pillows strewn everywhere.

"God it's like you screw rabbits in your sleep," the voice was Danielle's and she was commenting from her place in front of the mirror, applying lipstick to clash with her school uniform. I was able to hold my tongue because I knew she was just jealous; Dani wasn't getting any, even in her dreams.

She left without another word and I fell back down on my bed. My body was still shaking from the sensations. It had felt so real. On top of that, I don't know why I had never thought about such a miraculous event taking place before. A five-some with the Sons of Ipswich? My dreams were way kinkier than I thought.

Looking at the clock I groaned, there was no way I was going to make it to first period. Second wasn't looking too good either. So instead, I peeled back the sheets and walked slowly over to my desk, sitting down and bringing pen to paper. It was time to send my sentiments to my most recent glorious partners.

When I was finished writing I grabbed a towel and rushed to the shower, a much needed, cold, shower. During lunch period that day I took a walk along the boy's floor and slid four envelopes, complete with red lipstick marks, underneath two separate doors. My only regret is that I couldn't be there when they all read the message.

Now you've heard my story. Yes, the bathroom stalls are tombs of truth. I've been lucky. I've been slutty. But personally, I'm just determined. I wanted to have them.

All four of them.

And I did.

* * *

_Dear Reid, Pogue, Tyler, and Caleb,_

_"And so, dear boys, it's come to an end_

_I can no longer by your secret friend_

_Please know that each of you lit my torch_

_On desk_

_In truck_

_In closet_

_On porch_

_Such beautiful fornications, that you were_

_We shared something special_

_Me and you four_

_And I will kindly give reward_

_So that neither boy has his feelings hurt_

_Reid, my dear, you size is enormous_

_Pogue, my sweet, your hands gave quite a performance_

_Tyler, so tasty, your lips they are edible_

_Caleb, quite funny, but you were incredible_

_I'm glad we've shared this time together_

_I hope you can all say "let's just forget her"_

_Because I am not the type to screw 'em and stay_

_Oh no, not me, I don't run that way_

_So this is the last you will hear from me_

_This short, revealing, and erotic story_

_I've had you all_

_I've fucked each one_

_I won't lie, it was orgasmic fun_

_I'm sure your feelings are quite the same_

_But now, my darlings, we must end this game_

_Please don't lament, I'm not trying to be mean_

_Just know that you have been a successful conquest_

_Of Kimberly Greene"_

**Score: 4 for 4 (Thanks boys)**

**

* * *

**That is the end. Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing. Have a great summer. Pleasant dreams...

-LeFay


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